


Lights will guide you home

by givemelove7



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givemelove7/pseuds/givemelove7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hope this is what you wanted :)</p>
<p>Atletico 4-0 Real aftermath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights will guide you home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [albalonga99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/albalonga99/gifts).



I.

The walk from the parking lot to the grass of Valdebebas has never seemed so long, James thought. Partly because he had to use the crutches to put the pressure off his injured leg, partly because it was one of the coldest evenings he has ever experienced in Madrid. Of course the first winter he spent in Madrid would be one of the coldest in the last few decades. The weather seemed to match James' mood perfectly. It matched all of Real Madrid fans' mood that evening – cold, dark, unforgiving.  
He heard the familiar sound of a boot connecting with a ball, sound of the ball cutting the air, sound of the net as the ball entered it. He knew he'd find Cristiano there. It was a well known fact that Cristiano always went to practice more after a game Real Madrid or Portugal selection lost. Whether it was to punish himself or simply to make sure it never happens again by getting better, no one knew. No one ever dared to ask. It wouldn't make a difference anyhow.  
James silently watched as the older man kicked and dribbled and scored again and again and again. It wasn't until he scored seven free kicks in a row that he stopped. After that, Cristiano slowly made his way to the bench James was watching him from.  
„I don't know what to say to you.“ , James blurted out. Cristiano just looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face.  
“Everyone expects me to know what to say to you, like Toni always knows what to say to Isco to make him smile again, like Iker and Sergio always fix each other but I don’t. I honestly have no idea how to fix this. No use in telling you you are still the best player in the world – you already know that. We’ll do better next time – you know that as well. Everyone has a bad day sometimes – that won’t help. “  
Cristiano interlaced their fingers, James’ hand cold and red from the wind. “Words are so overrated, you know?”  
“So, what happens now?”  
“Now we stop dwelling on the past. Now we get better. Now we win. Now we make our fans proud again. That’s what happens now, James. That’s what has happened before, that’s what will happen now.”  
James just nodded once. It made sense. Cristiano always used all of the hate from fans, all of the critique from the press, every missed shot, every lost game – all of it was what fueled Cristiano, what challenged Cristiano. He was who he was because of his determination to prove everyone wrong.  
“I wish I could’ve played.”  
“Yeah, me too. We missed you... I missed you.”  
Not even the darkness could hide James’ smile.

 

II.

Iker just wanted to sleep. Maybe, with his head under the covers, he will stop hearing the Atletico fans chanting his name over and over again, the sound that has been haunting him since the first goal. It mocked him, it provoked him, it never left him. Maybe if he closed his eyes, the large 4-0 flashing before his eyes would disappear. It didn’t seem very likely, but maybe.  
Approaching his home, he saw a shadow on his front porch. Of course Sergio would be there. He was sitting on the stairs, a bottle of beer in each hand. He gave one to Iker and opened the other himself, still in silence.  
“Don’t give me a pep talk.”  
“I wasn’t going to.”  
“Don’t say it wasn’t my fault.”  
“It was.”  
“Don’t say we didn’t have half of the first team.”  
“That doesn’t excuse anything.”  
Iker took a long sip out of his bottle, emptying half of it in one go. It worsened the bitter taste already present in Iker’s mouth.  
“Iker? Do you remember what you told me the first time I lost a game with Real Madrid?”  
“No.”, Iker didn’t remember. He wasn’t a captain back then, it wasn’t his duty to keep the moral of the team high, or call everyone out on their mistakes. He had no speeches prepared. He had no idea what he’d said to Sergio back then, so many years ago.  
“You said that the worst thing about playing for Real, defending the crest on your chest is that you forget how to lose. You forget how to deal with losses cause you barely experience them. Your coach doesn’t know how to lose, your fans don’t know how to lose – Real Madrid just doesn’t lose. It’s not natural, it feels wrong.  
Yet it still happens. Sometimes you win against the better team. Sometimes you lose against the weaker team. That’s football, and losing never gets easier. The only difference is that after the first time, you know that it will pass, you know you’ll come out on top again.”  
“One day there won’t be a next time anymore.”  
“ True. But you’ll still be San Iker, the hero of Real Madrid. The fans won’t ever forget that. I won’t ever forget that.”


End file.
